Everybody needs a Sue Sylvester moment once in a while.

1D: you don't know you're beautiful, Me: People don't either

"I'm never gonna get that second look from boys. I get that. I'm fine with that. What I don't get is why some people have to still rub it in my face the reason why, like I'm not aware of the flaws I have. I own a goddamn mirror, guys, you know."

"Can't we fucking live in a world wherein physical flaws aren't pointed out every fucking time?"

"Please give a moment of silence for a departed loved one- that is my self-esteem, everytime you make a joke of how I look."

© Danielle Gabriel

Balemtayms Dey ♡

"Valentine's Day?

Nada-download ba yun sa Google Play?"

***

"Sa sobrang pagmamahal ko sa iyo, nagkaroon na ng buhok si Mr. Clean"

***

"May kasama naman ako sa 14 okay... Yung konsensya ko, bakit?!" #foreversingle

***

"I love you like a Backstreet Boys love song, baby"

***

To all the single ladies: “Puso lang ang isuko sa araw ng mga puso”

Realization Roadtrips

We celebrated New Year's Eve in Dasmariñas Cavite, an approximately 2 hour travel from my home in Angono, Rizal. Turns out we had relatives there. And I feel very much ashamed not knowing this beforehand- not knowing that some family roots were within close routes. I felt better after learning that mom and dad have not gone there yet as well and that it was a first time for our family of five (plus grandpa who was with us as early as December 30). So on December 31, at around 8:30 am, we started our roadtrip with only bread and coffee in our stomachs and a text message serving as tour guide. If it wasn't for my father being a driver and all, we would've circled the entirety of CALABARZON without even reaching our destination. Lost is what we were, indeed. We had to stop and ask a number of people a number of times. Thank God they were gracious enough to give us a fraction of their time. Too bad their directions put together were not. We were all wide-eyed for landmarks and ignorant of bathroom breaks. We each had our moment of being Henry, the Navigator. We sound-tripped to each other's music. And of course we had to pay the price of being lost courtesy of toll gates- which starts my random ramblings now.

You see, we had to go to through three toll gates during that day. With fees of P24, P24 and P64 respectively. Thing is, coming from the Christmas season, you can expect people to have their peso bills still crisp and pungent. And as far as I know, there has always been that human instinct to preserve all things pretty- and in this case, it is quite the noble sacrifice for my one of my two worn out P50 bill to take one for the team and substitute for my mom's rather delicate P100 one in the payment process. The first P50 bill covered the first two toll gates and the second one found its way in my mom's purse. For the third toll gate fee, since it was the costliest one, my dad had to ask for another P100 bill from my mother since none of us had P14 pesos to go with the remaining worn out P50. Mom informed us it was either the crisp bad boy we were supposed to use a while before or nothing. Good thing, my sister stepped in and save the day by handing in a P100 peso bill not in mint condition, to say the least. So for two instances that lucky paper bill, survived its own Hunger Games. But then, the Circle Of Life did not get famous for nothing. If there's anything I have come to realize for 2013, it's that: if something or someone is meant to be, it will be. “Que Sera Sera”, right? Because in a single lapse of logic, we forgot that there was the toll gates going back home to worry about. So this time, none of us had bills to spare. It was the P100 peso bad boy's cue. It was his time. We may have prevented its departure for a while but there is no cheating fate. What will be, will truly be. It's an ironic humor of life tossing and turning us in the way but still motioning us to the path truly meant for us. Whether it was a job you thought you did not get or a rejection of your life-long dream. It all happened for a reason. It would have happened no matter what.

What about you? Will 2014 be a year of being okay whichever toll gate your crisp paper bill goes into?

This growing up and having responsibilities thing can be a real pain in the butt sometimes. Eventually, will I have to accept the fact that I'll no longer have ample time for my friends, or for dancing- my love, or for reading out of mere pleasure, or even just for sleeping maybe.Why, oh Why?

Utang na loob, bakit ang awkward ko? :/

Dear: You,

I've been feeling down lately and it's not even because of how I don't have the slightest chance with you. I'm afraid I don't have the slightest chance with anybody. I know, I know. This is some pretty lame emo bullshit again but that's just how I feel right now. The fact is, the more I get to know you, the more I see how [cliched-ly] perfect you are- the more I see myself not worthy of you. And this is where things get more shitty complicated. You see, I know that if ever you were mine, I would go through miles trying to keep it that way. I know even in the smallest strand of DNA that I have, that I will and forever want to take care of you. I wish you'd let me. Then again, sometimes I wish you won't, considering I'm not the beauty-queen type. I'm sort of what you call weird and awkward. I'd rather hit it off with a book than at a party. I'm afraid that I'm not the kind of girl you'd be proud to show off to your friends or to your momma. I'm afraid I'm not your kind of girl, period. These two feelings of wanting to be with you and wanting what's best for you are battling it out in a dance-off. And the feeling of wanting to be with you is losing with its desperate awkward tango of hope that you'll be the one to pull the trigger first and rescue me from all this suppressed emotion. I want the best kind of girl for you, and somewhere deep down in me is a Rumpelstiltskin saying I'm not that girl. And that's what sucks. So now, I'm confused. Because try as I might, this isn't the typical happy ending chick flick you and I love to watch. I think it's somewhere between 500 Days of Summer and 500 Days of Summer, and I'm Tom. So there you go, I'm afraid of not finding anybody- because then, I wouldn't be able to forget about you. And what sucks the worst is I don't have the lady balls to tell you this in person, so yeah, I just hope that by some weird serendipitous accident, you pass by this e-confession of mine. Take care.

Sincerely,

Me

It's just really hard to try and concentrate on important things when shitty emotional stuff are bothering you. Then when you fail on those important things because of those shitty stuff you're feeling, everything else just becomes all shitty, too. And then life becomes this one big ball of sulk-fest. Just fabulous! 

Have you ever felt a potential love for someone?

Like, you don’t actually love them and you know you don’t, but you know you could. You realise that you could easily fall in love with them. It’s almost like the bud of a flower, ready to blossom but it’s just not quite there yet. And you like them a lot, you really do. You think about them often, but you don’t love them. You could, though. You know you could.

(Source: http://cascadingletters.tumblr.com/ )

I actually thought that something magical was happening here. Guess, I'm that funny, huh?

The Author Needs To Get A Life

It's one of THOSE days again.

Those days when you feel like doing nothing but snuggle your pillow or drink coffee while reading a book. It's those days when you feel like singing to a boy-band lovesong. And while it may be the one of the calmest moments in life, it may also be one of the saddest.

I don't know. Atleast for me it is.

There's something about rain that gets me feeling all philosophical and deep. It may be because of the cold and its slight paralyzing effect, stitching me to the bed and making me remember every possible sad and lonely encounter I've had in life. I'm a joker, I've always formed a bond with humor. I just feel like I have this need to make people smile and cheer up unhappy, stressed or infuriated sons of ---- censored ----- , I figured life is just too damn short to mope around. But then every darn time I'm left alone, I turn into those unhappy, stressed, infuriated sons of --- er --- . Truth is, sometimes saving others from their misery and worldly troubles by making them laugh can be tiring too. You have your own shi-- stuff-- that is hard enough already but then you go out of your way just to make someone's day, not knowing if someone out there is willing to do the same for you. Come to think of it, being a comedian may perhaps be one of the hardest professions ever to be invented. Because sadness and all those other melancholic emotions are inevitable and here is the jester trying to drive it away. H A R D, I tell you, hard. So what am I saying here exactly? The rain is making me lonely? I'm a funny person? Being a joker is hard work? I don't know. I guess when you're as messed up as me and it's these kinds of days, having sense incorporated in your blog posts is impossible. All I know is that there's more to people than what they let you see. Just like how rain is more than just droplets of water from the sky. It sparks a lot of things.

#CreepyEmoPost #SorryHaha

The thing about time is that it never has any of it for itself. It's a freakin' contradiction of itself. It's always in a hurry and I'm like, "geez, slow down will ya. Haven't even dropped a deuce yet and it's already the afternoon?"

esperanza-for-the-win.blogspot.com/ 

Below is a perfectly good reason why I would like to punch the heck out of my 14 year old self. Take note of the pathetic rhyming scheme, the elementary-level word choices as well as the obvious attempt to rant biographical accounts of high school scenes.

#throw-up #now

Our Fate: Together at the end or Apart forever

I never thought we would end up like this

the chemistry we once had was incomparable

now, we're like two diff'rent strangers

the pain is unbearable

My days were always alive whenever

my eyes would mingle with yours in the crowd

but all was just a silly illusion

and I just had my head in the clouds

This heart of mine had never felt

this deep anger and longing before

you broke it into a million tiny pieces

but I knew I still loved you more

I know it's my fault cause I was weak and stupid

I didn't have the courage that I left things unsaid

but didn't my actions yell louder than my words

than to lose you, I'd rather be dead

Misery and depression had come full circle

targets were aimed right through my heart

I'm losing my mind while guessing our fate

An ending together or a forever apart

Our love story went on like this

a great big confession in an empty hallway

memories of our short past friendship flooded me

that I couldn't answer right away

I wasn't so sure of my feelings

even if you were convincing right there

you made an awful lot of promises to wait

and I held on to them, I swear

It didn't take me quite long to see

that promises don't always last

you quickly found another deal

you burned my hopes to ash

But karma has a way of getting back

for you showed up one day crying and broken

I knew you deserved that kind of torture

but I couldn't let my concern stay hidden

As days passed by I knew I've already fallen

the heartbeat is real and the impulse is strong

I feared that you'll just play me like you did before

so I haven't even told you: I love you, we belong

I guess I've learned my lesson

I love yous are sometimes untrue

love can sometimes be brutal and cold

love can do stuff to you

Romance isn't always dinner dates and sunsets

it's not just sweet text messages too

next time I won't be so easy to fall

next time I'd know what to do

Last dances may prove to be divine

it can make you feel like the princess you dreamed to be

but there's also the concept of tragic endings

when you and your true love can't be

I knew I had to go my way

I couldn't risk another heartbreak

I couldn't keep pretending like all's fine

these tears I could not fake

so I say to you O' knight in shining jersey

I'm devastated you're not my prince

the future shouts a forever apart

so I'll blow my last goodbye kiss

There is always that point in your life when you have to swallow something you said or eat up a principle you once took pride on. I do a handful of positivity-infused posts every now and then. And sometimes I can't help but doubt whether the writer who wrote them had any sense at all of what she's saying at the time. The world is pretty messed up sometimes (considering we just came out from an election that many of us once again dubbed highly susceptible to fraud and a melting pot of errors). And with just 18 years of existence to back up all the goody-two shoes Paulo Coelho-wannabe type of pieces that I write, it is quite plausible that there will be times when I want to take back some of the things that slipped my tongue(or keyboard rather) and ended up being blogged only to be regretted after. My friends say I'm a real jolly fella, that I spark laughter and good companionship in everywhere I go. Then again, maybe it's just a defense mechanism. Maybe it's just that some things are just too embarrassing or degrading to admit even to your own self that you settle for just laughing it all of and “looking at the bright side”. What if that bright side is a long, long way down the road? What are you going to do then? It is instinct to cover up and hide weakness. But then, it is also inevitable to feel one. As of writing time, I am pulling my hair, thinking why some things didn't go my way- all childlike, yes. There will be a peak to everything. There will always be hiatus. Even the funniest of comedians could also be a sad sap.

Maybe a little teenage angst is cool after all. :D

I seduce with my awkwardness

Merriam-Webster dictionary defines awkward as lacking ease or grace.

And basically, maybe 50% or more of my anatomy is composed of it. I don't know why that is. It's not being shy. Shy is different and I can assure you, I'm far from it. I'm opinionated, talkative (with sense: optional) and outgoing. I guess the real issue here is the matter of comfort. Shy is never actually going for things or saying something because there is the presence of fear preventing the planned deed. Awkward is more of pushing through with said plan but never actually having the grace or poise to execute it without embarrassing oneself. That moment when you see a familiar more-of-an-acquaintance type of face from afar and your stomach seems to twist itself into knots. When you bump into a former high school “it” girl and realize, even though years have passed, the same social hierarchy still stands effective- you are what you have always been, the insignificant plain jane by the corner. When you pretend not to notice your past paramour when he's seated merely seats away from you on a jeepney. Those little moments when you want to tear your hair out and say censor-worthy things to destiny are routines for us, the awkward community. And ,frankly, sometimes it's just sad.

Sometimes I wish I was awake when the angels of heaven sprinkled social skills. I would have pushed my way through just to get a decent amount of it. Then I wouldn't have to struggle with myself, figuring out if I should have said hi at all to someone at the time and then regretting it afterwards when small talks turn as bad as lectures about certain “mature” things from your parents. AWKWARD!!!! I've always been the type who wants to approach people I know or knew. But when I do, it's either I mumble the weirdest facts, the corniest jokes, the most boring small talks or the most insincere how are you's. And when I don't, a feeling of guilt washes over me. I knew from the back of my mind “oh, no.. should've said hi, now I bet they think I'm a snob.” Please, I'm no snob. I just dont want to embarrass myself in front of you, in front of anybody in fact because, yes, my small talk skills are that terrible. Any way you look at it. I'm still the loser- always have and always will. Which makes me question if ever I do belong to journalism. Reporters aren't afraid to approach, much more dominate conversations. They're this people with golden tongues who know exactly what to say. I've never been that. I see to it that I plan what to say. I set up fillers and I figure out sneaky ways to inject humor (which in all honesty has failed me countless times already). I try to say smart things as much as possible. In the end, it just seems desperate and pathetic. But I guess that's just the way it is. I'm so awkward, maybe even my DNA and other microscopic constituents hide from each other to avoid communication.

But to my great fortune, some people find my social weakness, cute. They have the time of their life watching me rack my brain for things to say, which will eventually be cut short because I always politely and awkwardly excuse myself to go, knowing I would never make it past the 3 – 5 sentence record I have. I don't want to seem plastic to people but I don't want to come off aloof either. I don't know what to call friends who you're not that close to. Open friends? Haha, I made a funny. They're the real challenge, ofcourse. I mean when you're with your closest group of people, you can talk about cheese, for all you know, and you'd still be having a good time. It's different with these open friends. But I have to admit it makes life all the more exciting.

P.S. Imagine me running all action star-like just to avoid talking with a high school knowing. (Think Mission Impossible or more accurately, think Johnny English)

The One Book I Met While Heartbroken

 THIS IS A STORY ABOUT A MAN named Eddie and it begins at the
end, with Eddie dying in the sun. It might seem strange to start a story
with an ending. But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know
it at the time.                                                                                      

                                                           - The Five People You Meet in Heaven
                                                                               by Mitch Albom

Since summer time has made itself at home here in the country and summer classes, as I have found out, cost an arm and a leg- and probably some other internal organs as well- I have decided to make these two months of vacation as productive as I possibly can. That means looking for work, indulging on books, practicing my writing, catching up on forgotten passions (music and dance), and eating healthy to my heart's content- I just hope it's disciplined enough to lay off the bacon and sweets just for 8 weeks. Anyhow, like always, I made it a point to stick to a schedule. My OC self would always take over at times like these when the temptation of doing nothing and being nothing tries to stage an attack. I wrote down everything I needed to do for the summer in an old notebook and crossed my fingers, hoping each one written there would push through. It didn't.

I was applying for my school's official publication. Every aspiring writer's dream- to have his name printed in a newspaper even before he gets his diploma. I was one of them, ofcourse. But as easily as fate conspires to have dreams reached, odds can be against it. Just when I was one step closer to the position, I felt the weight of rejection drag me down. In a matter of hours, I got the depressing news. I didn't know what was worse- knowing I failed or knowing I failed without knowing why. In a cruel twist of irony, I received the news moments after positively relating how I did in the interview to my mom and dad. I went up to my room thinking I made them proud. I went down again taking it all back. It's moments like this when I question the dignity of my optimism. I notice I do a lot of positive-filled posts and saintly encouragements; I wonder if after spending more years in the adult world, would I change this kind of thinking? Would I turn into those lonely men and women who feel stuck and unhappy, rotting in the cycle of making a living instead of actually living? Uggghhh! Whatever. That's still a long way down the road. What's important is now. And now I feel like having a bucket of fried chicken and some Ben&Jerry's while at it. Maybe listen to some Alicia Keys to have my swagger back, I don't know.

Recently, I downloaded a bunch of pdf files of books that I longed to read. I chose to read The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom, thinking another Paulo Coelho-like magic might work on a tragedy-struck girl like moi. And I was right in my choice. I was debating on whether to pick up an Emily Griffin book versus that and I'm really glad I chose the latter. After the introductory paragraph, I though to myself “Dear, God: Where has this fine piece of literature been all my life?”. It was that helpful. This is no book review post so I'll make the spoiling quick, okay. The story centers on a man named Eddie and his journey to five places in heaven wherein he meets five people who have impacted his life in some way. In each place in heaven, he learns a lesson from one person and at the end received a better understanding of his life on earth. The messages involved life having no random acts, sacrifice, forgiveness, lost loves and purposes. The entire plot and concept was magical. I was crying half-way through the book. Even the dedication part hit me. In a course of one day, I felt better. The book took me back to the interview itself when I was asked. “Would you commit a Kristel Tejada, if you don't get in,” they said in Tagalog. I didn't know why I answered right away, “no sir, masaya pong mabuhay.” Now, I think I know.

(P.S I'm a badass, I still have my back-up plans. Sorry, setbacks. Better luck next time. I have loads of legendary things to do.)

Kidding Around

There is always something about traveling on a long and winding road that gets me all sentimental. I often find myself looking at my fellow passengers and wondering what their life is like, what are they thinking and most importantly- are they happy? Afterwards, I turn to myself and ask the same questions. Am I happy? I don't know for sure. I know I try to be. Someone once said, “happiness is a choice.” So it IS up to us to make the decision.

Today as I was riding a jeepney on my way home from school, I sat across a mother and her daughter. From the first look, it was quite evident that the woman works in the market. She carried with her a sack of corn or potatoes, maybe, and wore a light cotton shirt and cargo shorts. Shortly after handing their payment for the fare, the woman drowsed off and left me with only the little girl beside her to observe. The girl with her worn-out rubber sandals and Dora the Explorer t-shirt was a perfect picture of innocence and middle class life. Her hair was neatly tucked into place with a simple ponytail- no adornments of flowers and butterflies whatsoever. And so despite how plain that little angel was, my eyes could not stop staring. I forgot to mention that lately I have been obsessing on kids, young girls in particular. I feel all warm and fuzzy when they're around. I could just play with them all day long. Anyway, there I was fixed on the little girl who was overpowering with her sweet simple adorable-ness. And to escalate the cuteness effect, to my surprise, she started singing. And not even the current songs of today but those that belong to my parents' era. I desperately tried to stifle a wide smile during that whole encounter but it was just too much. Soon, I found myself softly singing with her. We cooed to Martina McBride's My Valentine, local hits like Sana Maulit Muli and Pagdating Ng Panahon , and many more.

Then when it was time for the little girl and her sleeping beauty mother to get off the jeep, I felt a tinge of curiosity. I wondered if people saw me the way I saw the kid. I wondered if beneath all this ordinary, awkward and flawed self, others could still see potential and beauty. I was amazed with that girl, being young as she is but still able to appreciate the grand music conceived even before she was. It was a gift and I was proud to have witnessed it. Us, people nowadays look for the dirty spots on a clean canvass and I wish it would not be that way anymore. I wondered if people looked at me when I was younger and made guesses on what and who I was going to be. I hoped it was something good, something positive, something like what I saw in that little girl.

Love is patient... blah blah blah

♥

(http://www.pinkforsure.com/)

If slumbooks were still all the rage in today's technology-driven generation, I would have copyrighted my name on this statement.

My sudden diva surge was brought about by a random desire this morning to have abs. Yup, ABS. Move over Jacob Black! This dance competition I wanted so badly to be part of is just around the corner and so, I don't know, I'm preparing I guess. Also, I'm trying to relieve my mind of the stupidity I executed last week when taking a quiz on my major subject. I reviewed and thought I got everything down when lo' and behold, dumb Danielle forgot to check the back side of the questionnaire to see if there were still items there to answer. I'm pretty sure I'm going to flunk that stupid test. Worst part was the teacher was standing near me the whole time, keeping mum about my display of carelessness she just witnessed. What a great mentor! 

And so alongside striving to get me my abs, I am determined to better at everything including in that major subject. That moment of idiocy will forever be engraved in my consciousness and my default response is to bounce back higher and bitch around (in a good way).